


First Show

by idyll



Series: Not a Pretty Girl [4]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Community: 14valentines, Gen, cis!girl Bob, cis!girl au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-07
Updated: 2008-02-07
Packaged: 2017-10-07 10:14:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idyll/pseuds/idyll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bob's especially concerned about Gee, who, last she saw, looked like he was about to hyperventilate himself into unconsciousness. (girl!bob)</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Show

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://community.livejournal.com/14valentines/profile)[**14valentines**](http://community.livejournal.com/14valentines/) [Day 6 - Motherhood](http://community.livejournal.com/14valentines/103002.html)

Before Bob's first show with My Chem they do soundcheck and then go into a sickly holding pattern before they're due on stage for real. Bob's standing in the hallway not far from their dressing room with a hand pressed against her churning stomach. Every inch of her skin is clammy and she knows she's probably pasty-faced and wide-eyed.

Brian sidles up to her. "You nervous?"

Bob shrugs. "Not as much as the others."

Brian leans against the wall next to Bob, his body angled towards her, and snorts. "That's not saying much."

It's Bob's first time playing with the band, but it's Gerard's first time doing a show _sober_ and, well, yeah. No one's calm at the moment, but Bob's especially concerned about Gerard, who, last she saw, looked like he was about to hyperventilate himself into unconsciousness. Or just fall down and curl into a ball.

"Well." Bob shoves her hands into her pockets and pretends that she isn't covered in a cold sweat. "You know. I'm okay."

The look Brian gives her involves an arched brow, twisted mouth, and an _I know you, dipshit_ tilt of his head. "Cut the shit. You're nervous." Bob rolls her eyes, because, duh. Of course she fucking is. That doesn't mean she wants to talk about it. "You'll kick ass up there, and the guys--"

God, Brian is in total Brian Schechter: Manager mode, which Bob can't really stomach. Especially not when she's already nauseous. She groans and holds up a hand. "Don't you have a freaked out band to calm down?"

"That's what I'm doing," Brian says slowly, like Bob's an idiot.

Bob stares at him. Brian stares back, firm and collected and every inch the damn good manager that Bob always knew he'd be. No matter how hard Bob looks she doesn't see the Brian she's friends with, the one she's partied with, the one she's known for years.

And Bob maybe _is_ an idiot. She knows--she's always known--that Brian keeps a line drawn between himself and his bands. He has to because they need him to. He's friends with them, they're friends with him, but there's a necessary distance that exists. Bob's seen it, even with My Chem.

She just didn't think about the fact that by joining the band she was putting herself on the other side of that line, and that her friend Brian would be stepping back a few paces in favor of her manager Brian.

But she has, and he has, and Bob just keeps staring at him, surprised and hurt.

"You complete dick," she finally says, faint and accusing, because Brian didn't even have the fucking decency to ease her into this.

Brian curls a hand around the back of her neck and she pushes forward into his space to tuck her face against his shoulder and clutch at his sides. It's been years, and Brian's always been good to her, and she knows she's not losing him, not really, but it feels that way. She holds on as tightly as she can and doesn't want to let go. Brian strokes his thumb down the side of her neck, just once, and then takes a deliberate step back.

"Go see your band," he tells her not unkindly.

It should be comforting, the glimpse of regret she spots on Brian's face before he packs it away for good. It's not.

*

In the dressing room, Gerard is sitting with his head between his knees. Mikey is next to him, rubbing his back. Frank is a ball of tension across from them, and Ray's leg is jittering so hard that the small table in front of the sofa he's on is shaking.

They look up when Bob comes in and offer her tense and nervous smiles. Bob thinks her own smile must match theirs; it feels that way, at least.

"You okay?" Frank asks her. When she blinks at him, he points at where she's pressing a hand against her stomach again.

For a second Bob thinks about trying to wave it off, but it'd be a blatant lie and it seems...wrong to play at being fine when everyone else is obviously not fine and they're all in this together.

Her voice is sort of too loud and she can hear how spooked she sounds when she answers him. "I'm terrified, I might puke, and I think I've forgotten how to hold my sticks." It takes a lot of effort to shut her mouth and not add, _"Also, Brian's a fucking bastard and I already miss him."_

Gerard laughs. It's brittle, hysterical and genuine all at once. "Substitute _forgotten how to sing_ and we could be twins."

"Except you _did_ puke," Mikey says, one brow arched.

Bob creeps further into the room, and Frank squirms over on the sofa and gestures at her to sit.

"I didn't," Gerard argues. He looks at Bob, who's squishing herself between Frank and Ray. "I dry-heaved. That doesn't count."

Frank calls bullshit. "Fuck you, it does. If you'd actually eaten anything in the last two days it would have come up. So it counts."

He looks at Ray, who nods immediately. "Counts."

Bob's the only one who sees the door open again and Brian slip inside. He stands on the outskirts, the distance measurably small but figuratively vast, and Bob wonders if the others have even noticed him come in, have ever noticed the apartness.

Ray nudges Bob's knee with his own. "Tie breaker."

She looks around and finds everyone staring at her. "Um, I didn't even dry heave."

Gerard groans and puts his head between his knees again. "You're all against me."

Mikey slaps Gerard's back lightly and rolls his eyes. "Shut the fuck up and breathe, asshole."

Gerard flips him off.

Ray's knee is going again, and Bob doesn't think about it, just reaches out and clamps a hand on top of his thigh. He goes still and turns his head, offering an apologetic half-smile. Bob shrugs and digs her fingers in harder when his leg tenses under her grip.

"We're going to kill tonight," Frank says suddenly. They all look at him, even Gerard, who raises his head the slightest bit and is sort of cute and pathetic at the same time. "I can taste it," Frank goes on, his eyes serious and curiously intense. "It's in the fucking air, you guys. Can't you taste it? Smell it?"

Bob thinks she can. It tastes bitter and sharp, smells salty and musky, and it's shooting through her veins like a truck on a collision course with a train.

No one says anything for a long while, and it's like they're all right there with Frank, experiencing it, knowing it to be true. And then the moment breaks and they're in motion once more. Gerard starts huffing for breath again and Mikey rubs circles on his back. Bob twists at the waist and uses both hands to still Ray's leg. Frank leans his head back, a Sphinx-like smile curling his lips.

No one's less nervous--Bob sure as fuck isn't--but the atmosphere is less desperate and more excited, if only slightly.

From the corner of her eye Bob can see Brian, arms crossed, watching them carefully and smiling with approval.

.End


End file.
